Scared

We're sleeping on his couch, cuddled beneath a large fleece blanket. My Chihuahua is nestled under the crook of Jack's arm and I'm on the other, laying still and listening to the steady combination of breathing and water beating down on the rooftop.

No sex tonight. We spent the better part of the evening talking about earrings girl; I finally got the balls to ask about the bottle of low-budget wine I found in his fridge after we made up. He answered my parade of questions tenderly, carefully. It was hers, of course. I fell asleep after I ran out of uncomfortable why's and both my eyelids and heart began to feel heavy.

Why did she have to sleep over if there was nothing going on between you two? Why does she still text/call? What does she say? She tries to suck your dick when she comes over, doesn't she?

Its 3 a.m. and I've had a bad dream. It was like something out of a horror movie--a small brown-haired boy with dark-rimmed eyes reached out and choked my throat with his little white hands, jarring me awake from my fitfull sleep.

Half of me wants to wake Jack to hold and comfort me. I wish we hadn't spent so much time talking about her, but I couldn't stop asking once I got started.

The other half of me is wishing I was home in my own bed instead right now.

Like Jordans on Saturday

Had a good time at the Warriors game last night. We spent the better part of this afternoon on his couch in our sweats--he, watching the Raiders game, while I laid in his arms and alternated between napping and goofing off on my Crackberry.

I left a few hours later so he could attend a housewarming party. But about 30 minutes after I got home, I saw got this text message from him:

"Not going to my friends dont feel like going. Come hm to me and we'll go get food, cook, watch a movie and cuddle."

I used to think I was a bit high maintenance, but really, it takes so little to make me happy.

Posh Spice Can't be Sporty Spice

I'm letting Jack drag me to a Warriors game tonight.

"You should sport jeans, a t-shirt, and Nikes," he suggested. "That's sexy to me."

I supressed the urge to vom in my mouth. Seriously? I practically sprang out of my mother's womb in stilettos. No way I'd be caught dead in Nikes outside of the gym.

What does one wear to a basketball game, I wonder.

---

12/7 UPDATE: Ended up wearing this (except my sweater was dark brown):

The Little Things

Text from Jack:

"I need you and miss u"

=)

Change in Plans

Three glasses of Pinot Noir, some polite conversation, and an awkward kiss on the cheek later, I found myself standing on Jack's doorstep, shivering in my leather bomber jacket and leggings.

He answered shirtless and groggy. "Missed me so you left? So sweet," he laughed as I stepped inside. My stilettos clacked on the hardwood floors. Jack's house hadn't been on my itinerary for the night.

We walked to his bedroom, where I peeled off my clothing and climbed under the layers of comforters and blankets. He pulled me close and I laid my head on his chest while we talked about our day until neither of us could keep our eyes open any longer.

Jose never stood a chance.

Mr. Right Now

Date night with someone other than Jack tonight. We're meeting at one of my fave little tapas places for drinks.

I'm a little nervous; not so much about having my first date with Jose, but more about what Jack might think. We agreed to let the other know if we went out with other people, and at the time, it seemed like a mature, reasonable idea.

But I've decided not to say anything to Jack unless (1) the date goes well and we hit it off and (2) Jose asks me out for another date. Otherwise, what's the point, right?

Besides, Jack and I had such a good night last night. We didn't do anything special other than cupcake and laugh on his couch while watching bad reality T.V., eating pizza, and drinking beer. Every now and then he would reach over to tuck me underneath the large fleece blanket. I lay there, content in my black shawl-collar cardigan, black tank, and a pair of his sweats with my red pedicure peeking out from the bottom. "You look so cute in my pants," he'd say as he leaned over to plant a kiss on my forehead.

Despite my uber casual ensemb, messy bedroom hair, and barely a stitch of makeup, it was one of those rare evenings where I felt absolutely gorgeous. Being around someone who makes you happy will do that, I guess.

So Much For Slow

"Why don't you finish that and go to the car while I take care of the bill?" Jack asked calmy, nodding towards my drink. I looked at him. Bedroom eyes. They get me every time.

I could feel myself getting wet as I trotted dutifully towards my SUV in my suit and Dolce and Gabbana stilettos. (I had called Jack post-job interview to meet me for Happy Hour and dinner last night.)

Shortly after, I heard a tapping on my backseat window, and Jack slid onto the cream-colored leather seats next to me, unbuckling his pants. We gave each other a knowing look as I hiked up my skirt and climbed onto his lap.

Every five minutes or so, the security guard or a person would stroll by; we were in plain view of everyone since the truck was parked beneath a lamppost. Jack would whisper, "someone's coming," into my ear, but we both knew that we didn't care.

Obligatory "Thankful" Post

Just wanted to say a quick "thank you" to all of my readers out there. I realize that some of you have been following me since Life of a Valley Girl 1.0, pre-Doocing attempt, even.

This blog is such a great outlet for me to express what's on my mind and in my heart, and I am thankful for all of you who find it interesting, offer your support, and send me wonderful, complimentary e-mails encouraging me to keep it up. You don't know how much it means to me.

Cheers to you and yours having a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday.

XOXO,
Val

Rolling the Dice

Met Jack at Starbucks this evening to talk about things. I arrived before him, so I bought myself some coffee and settled into a large leather couch at the back of the cafe while picking at my outfit impatiently.

I had selected a super-casual ensemb for our talk: red and black plaid button-down and dark skinnies tucked into brown suede boots. I wanted to convey casual chic without screaming "trying-too-hard," you see.

He came shortly after and I gave him a hug. Why, oh why do men always look sexiest after you've been mad at them? I lamented to myself as I stole sideway glances at Jack. If we were at his house, it would've taken a good amount of self control not to straddle him on the couch, stare into his eyes, plant a kiss on his lips, and then tear his clothes off. (I get uber horny after fights.) Thank God we had decided on meeting at Starbucks instead.

Our conversation was surpisingly mature and considerate. I talked about how I'd been feeling, he talked about how he'd been feeling. We both concluded that we'd moved waaay too fast.

"Why don't we take a step in a different direction?" he proposed. "Slow things down? Instead of always being at my house, maybe we could do more of the usual date-type activities? It'll give us a chance to get to know each other better, to build things on a solid foundation," he reasoned.

Deep down, I knew this was the more logical, healthier option for both of us. But a small part of me was reluctant to give up the every-day visits to his house. I guess they gave me some sense of security; I mean, how could he possibly be fucking other bitches if I was there 24/7, right?

But with dating, comes risk. There's always the chance that the person will meet someone else, that things won't work out, that you'll get your heart broken. Sometimes, you just have to decide whether the person is worth the gamble or not.

"What are you doing tomorrow evening after your family's dinner?" he asked. "Why don't we go see a movie and then have sushi and sake?"

I told him I'd like that.

Face-to-Face

Going to Jack's tonight for a heart-to-heart. Should be interesting.

And YES, I will be keeping my legs closed.